


Lost by Inches

by etamiss



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dogs, Domestic, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etamiss/pseuds/etamiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke gets a mabari. Fenris is less than thrilled with this development.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost by Inches

There's a uniquely Fereldan level of enthusiasm in Hawke's voice when he announces, "I found a dog!"

Midway through Varric's latest novel -- a Chantry sister has just beheaded her qunari ex-lover and set fire to some bandits -- Fenris looks up when Hawke comes barrelling in. There's a new stave on Hawke's back, three pairs of torn trousers tucked in his belt, and a squirming bundle in his hands which yips when Hawke brandishes it proudly in Fenris' face.

Fenris blinks.

The dog, which is definitely too large to be carried like an infant, barks by way of greeting and tries to eat Fenris' hair.

"You found a dog," Fenris repeats.

"He was begging for scraps near the alienage," Hawke says. With some effort he shifts the dog in his arms and rubs its belly. "He took a liking to me when I went to visit Merrill."

The chunky brown mabari yaps in agreement from where it's ensconced in Hawke's arms and then proceeds to gnaw on Hawke's fingers.

For reasons beyond Fenris' understanding, Hawke seems pleased by this development when he coos, "Who's a good boy?"

Fenris clears his throat.

"Anyway," Hawke continues, "I thought he might like a change of scenery. Plus I could use a mabari."

"You have magic," Fenris points out. "Why do you need a mabari?"

"For protection," Hawke says, sounding confused that Fenris would even ask. "Mages are a traditionally squishy people."

Fenris casts his eyes over the very firm expanse of Hawke's body. "So I hear."

"All right, I may not _need_ a mabari," he admits. Having successfully scaled Hawke's arm, the dog lets out a bark of triumph and Hawke repositions it before it tumbles off his shoulder. "It would just be nice to have a dog around the house."

He holds the mabari in Fenris' face again. It squirms in excitement and lays siege to Fenris' nose with its tongue.

Grimacing, Fenris bats Hawke and the dog away and scrubs his face clean. "I take it the decision has already been made."

"Of course not," Hawke says, tucking the dog under his arm. "You live here too -- if you don't want a dog, I can take him back to Merrill."

Fenris raises an eyebrow. "Sending it back to a blood mage in the squalor of the alienage seems overly cruel."

"It's Merrill," Hawke says, rolling his eyes. "She's more likely to knit him a tiny hat than to sacrifice him in some dark ritual."

Even with his knowledge of how power-hungry blood mages can be -- there's a reason Tevinter wasn't big on pets -- Fenris can't really fault Hawke's logic there.

"Fine," he relents. "I suppose the dog would be happier here. There's more space."

Hawke's face splits into a grin. "Really?"

"But you have to train it," Fenris says. "Your neighbours are already unsettled by me moving in; they won't be happy if you take in another unruly stray."

"Hey," Hawke says, smile fading, "you're not a stray."

Fenris smirks, stretching his bare feet out towards the fire. "I notice you say nothing about me being unruly."

Hawke chuckles, reaching out with his non-dog-filled hand to ruffle Fenris' hair. "Maybe just a couple of parts of you. Otherwise you're very… orderly."

Fenris smiles as he tilts his head up to let Hawke kiss him on the lips. "You know how to compliment someone."

"It's both a blessing and a curse," Hawke agrees and kisses him again.

Apparently feeling left out, the dog manages to propel itself out of Hawke's arms on to Fenris' chest where it then barks in delight at having found a new person to sit on.

Amused, Hawke scritches behind its ears and Fenris settles back in the chair with a sigh as he sets the first ground rule. "We're not letting it in the bedroom."

 

 

+++

 

 

It takes three days before Hawke lets the dog in the bedroom.

The mabari rarely leaves Hawke's side, following close at Hawke's heel when they traverse Kirkwall and plunging joyfully into the fray whenever they find themselves in a fight. Even when they're out by the coast, Hawke and the mabari are inseparable, to the point that they start relieving themselves together against the same tree.

As with most of Hawke's dubious decisions, Varric accepts the presence of the mabari without complaint. Isabela protests at first but ends up sneaking it treats after less than an hour on the road, while Merrill doesn't even bother pretending that she isn't going to spend half of her loot on mabari crunch.

Aveline and Anders react to the mabari with cautious respect and blatant mistrust respectively. Having been on the receiving end of those exact reactions in the past, Fenris can't help but develop some level of empathy with the dog.

As such, after a few weeks together -- during which the mabari nearly doubles in size -- Fenris and the dog manage to reach a plateau of compromise and mutual tolerance. Fenris tries not to distract Hawke while he's delivering pettings and the dog settles for lightly nibbling Fenris' clothes rather than tearing holes big enough to fit his head through.

However, even after four weeks, Fenris still can't bring himself to call the dog by its actual name.

"I can't believe you don't like his name."

Hawke is half-naked. He's scrubbing spider ichor off his shoulder, which dampens Fenris' enthusiasm a little, but Fenris still watches with distant appreciation from where he's propped against the pillows in bed. Beside him, the mabari is rolling happily in Hawke's half of the bed.

"I don't _dis_ like it," Fenris offers.

It's a lie, and a half-hearted one at that, but Hawke doesn't seem fazed when he moves to rub the dog's belly. "You'll give him a complex. Won't he, Biscuit?"

Biscuit barks in agreement.

Fenris despairs quietly. There have been a lot of firsts during his time with Hawke but falling for a grown man who thinks 'Biscuit' is an acceptable name for a mabari isn't one that Fenris is especially proud of.

Hawke pats the dog's side as he teases, "Is the mean elf giving you self-esteem issues?"

While Fenris is no expert, the dog doesn't exactly appear to be suffering from any crippling name-related insecurities.

Biscuit barks again anyway, however, and adds a wag of his tail for good measure.

"It's a good name," Hawke says, cupping Biscuit's jaw and tilting his head to face Fenris. "Look at that face. That is the face of a Biscuit."

Biscuit gives Fenris a very solemn look before sneezing on Hawke's pillow.

Fenris purses his lips. "Biscuits don't have faces."

"True," Hawke agrees, "but if they did, they'd definitely look like his."

Fenris' skepticism must show on his face since Hawke just chuckles as he strips out of the rest of his clothes and into his sleep pants. "All right, what would you call him?" he asks. "Or another pet if we got one -- it would be too cruel to rename him now."

"I… don't know," Fenris admits. "Canis?"

Hawke eyes him with suspicion. "Is that just 'dog' in Tevene?"

Rumbled, Fenris scowls. "You don't speak Tevene."

"No," Hawke says, sliding into bed beside him, "but I do speak Fenris."

Unsure how he feels about being so predictable, Fenris nonetheless settles in next to Hawke, his back against the pillows and his book -- a murder mystery featuring a magister as the murder victim -- resting on his lap.

"I was just expecting a good Fereldan name," he says. "Like Cailan or Eamon."

"Too noble," Hawke says, reaching for his own book. (Unsurprisingly, it features dragons.) "What about something from Tevinter? Were there any names you liked there?"

Fenris' thoughts land on the people he liked, rather than the names. Fear and suspicion kept him from forming many bonds with the other slaves but he remembers Maren, an elven cook who slipped him food whenever Hadriana's back was turned, and Solla, an older human who would lengthen the hem of his serving tunic to give him a fraction more dignity during Danarius' dinner parties.

Even with the memories fresh in his mind, Fenris shakes his head. "No names that I would give to a dog." He stretches his legs out alongside Hawke's, the familiar anger at his past life fading under the soothing heat of Hawke's body. "The Imperium doesn't exactly hold pets in high regard."

"No pets?" Hawke says, aghast. "Do you think they know they've already won the title of Worst Place in Thedas? They don't need to keep making it worse."

Fenris laughs at that. Biscuit comes to investigate, wriggling his way between the two of them and Fenris pets him absently as he says, "I think they still harbour some resentment for the mabaris turning on them during the Fereldan invasion. Magisters have always valued their pride."

"Well, if it's a choice between pride and dogs, I choose dogs," Hawke says.

Fenris smiles. "I think I gathered that when you chased Biscuit through Hightown in just your smallclothes."

Hawke sighs at the reminder. "You know Lady Nanette still tuts whenever she sees me?"

Fenris gives a non-committal hum and decides not to mention the time he'd overheard Lady Nanette reminiscing fondly about Hawke's thighs.

"Maybe I should get him a leash," Hawke says. "At least for Hightown."

Settled between them, Biscuit lets out a low growl and Fenris gives him a sympathetic pat. It's been a long, long time since he was at the end of Danarius' leash but the memory is not a pleasant one.

"I think that's a no," Fenris says. "Besides, I expect the nobles of Kirkwall are more concerned about the behaviour of the owner rather than the dog."

"You wound me," Hawke says, putting a hand to his chest. It's lessened somewhat when he leans over to kiss Fenris on the forehead. "But I've learned my lesson. In future I promise to put on clothes before I go chasing my dog through Kirkwall."

"I'm so proud," Fenris says, kissing him on the cheek in return.

Never a fan of being overshadowed, Biscuit stirs, rolling over onto his back before looking between the two of them expectantly.

"I think that's our cue," Hawke says as he provides the belly rubs which are clearly being demanded.

Fenris flips his book open to the latest page. He tries to remember whether the shady empress or the undead nug was the current prime suspect as Hawke addresses his question to Biscuit, "Which story do you want to hear tonight, boy? Murder or dragons?"

 

 

+++

 

 

As more months roll by -- and as the dog continues to rapidly increase in size -- Fenris finds himself getting used to Biscuit's name, his taste in murder-related literature, and his general presence in their lives.

Both he and Hawke have adapted their fighting styles to the addition of a mabari to their party, and while Fenris isn't quite at the stage of relieving himself against the same tree as the dog, the three of them have begun to build a solid relationship of respect and trust.

When Fenris is alone with Biscuit, however, that relationship still tends to falter.

"No," he says firmly.

Biscuit does not move his head from where it's resting in Fenris' lap. He drools a little.

"This is my food," Fenris says, holding the plate protectively to his chest. "I know Hawke already fed you. I watched him."

Biscuit lets out a very tragic whine.

"I'm hungrier than you," Fenris points out. He's not sure when trying to reason with a dog became a sensible option. "I fought that revenant alone because you and Hawke were both knocked unconscious. I'm tired."

Biscuit cocks his head and gives Fenris' knee an optimistic lick.

"What, are you going to eat _me_ if I don't give you food?"

It's said in jest but Biscuit's eyes light up at the suggestion.

"No," he says, pointing at him sternly. "I will not be threatened by a dog for food."

He could swear Biscuit's face falls. The dog looks up at him with big, sad eyes and even from his place on the chair, Fenris can hear his stomach grumble (although there's a good chance that's due to inhaling a plate of chicken less than an hour earlier).

Biscuit whines again, pushing his nose against Fenris' thigh in a shameless plea, and Fenris hates himself for his own weakness when he plucks a strip of ham off his plate.

"One piece," he says with a sigh.

Biscuit leaps up happily, paws resting on Fenris' thighs while he devours the ham, and Fenris strokes under his chin as he says firmly, "We must never mention this to Hawke."

 

 

+++

 

 

Hawke isn't the most graceful of sleepers.

He sleeps on his stomach, with both legs splayed across the bed, one arm wrapped around Fenris' back, and his face buried in the pillow. Normally Fenris doesn't pay it much attention but this morning he finds himself studying the tufts of Hawke's hair and the creases pressed into his skin from the pillow.

When Hawke finally stirs, he does so slowly. Fenris watches Hawke's eyelids open a fraction and then flutter in surprise when he does a double-take. "You're still here?"

His voice is gravelly with sleep and Fenris smiles when he wrinkles his nose at the morning brightness.

"So it would appear," he says.

Hawke glances up at the sun streaming through the curtains. "But it's nearly midday. You never stay in bed this late."

"I didn't have much choice in the matter." Wriggling an arm free, Fenris gestures down to where Biscuit is sprawled across his body. He's not a small animal at the best of times but Fenris hadn't realised just how hefty he was until he'd woken up to the dog's bulk pinning him down.

Rather than well-deserved sympathy for Fenris' plight, Hawke just grins when he takes in the situation.

"Well," he says with a yawn, "it's definitely a step up from him bringing me a half-chewed slipper."

Fenris narrows his eyes. "Did you just compare me to a slipper?"

Biscuit barks in agreement and Hawke's smile widens as he leans over to kiss Fenris on the lips. "The most handsome slipper in all the land."

"You-"

Fenris' protests die down at the firm brush of Hawke's lips against his. Hawke isn't really awake yet, and it shows in his coordination, but just the press of his mouth and the heat of Hawke's hand on his shoulder is enough to make Fenris relax into the kiss with a quiet hum.

His relaxation is interrupted when Biscuit shifts position on his back and they break apart as Hawke reaches up to scratch behind the dog's ears. "Aren't you a clever boy?"

Biscuit barks again, tail thumping against the mattress, and Fenris frowns. "Why are you complimenting him for accosting me?"

"Because I like seeing you in the mornings," Hawke says. "Also it means I get to kiss you without having to put on a shirt."

Fenris can't keep the smile off his lips as he shakes his head. "We should really talk about your aversion to clothing."

"Psht." Hawke burrows back into the pillow. "Later. Anyway-" He pauses to yawn. "-you could've got out if you wanted to."

"Was I not clear about how heavy your dog is?"

"Oh, you were clear." His fingers follow the lyrium on Fenris' back, tracing down over his shoulder blade and along his spine. "You still could've got out."

"Hmm," Fenris says in lieu of an answer. Hawke's fingers are warm and gentle and Fenris finds his eyes drifting closed as the lyrium tingles at the sensation.

His eyes snap open again when Hawke whistles. Biscuit scrambles off the bed in an instant, prancing around in a satisfied circle on the floor before bounding downstairs, and Fenris looks at Hawke in surprise. "This was your doing?"

"All Biscuit," Hawke promises as he props himself up on his elbow to give Fenris another kiss. His hand moves lower and even with his eyes closed, Fenris knows his markings are glowing at the contact. "Although I'm not above making the most of the situation."

He slings his leg over Fenris' hips, rolling them both until Fenris is flat on his back with Hawke's weight on top of him now rather than the mabari's.

While Hawke is a bit heavier, there isn't that much in it and Fenris threads his fingers through Hawke's hair as he says, "Please tell me you aren't going to start drooling on me too?"

"I make no promises," Hawke teases.

He kisses his way along Fenris' jaw before finally catching his lips again and the lyrium ignites with a pleasant buzz when Fenris tilts his head up into the kiss. Hawke's mouth moves lower, his lips tracing a path down Fenris' neck, chest and stomach, and Fenris' hand tightens in Hawke's hair as his markings flicker in anticipation.

By the time Hawke disappears under the sheets with a grin and a wink, Fenris has started to re-evaluate his position on getting up quite so early in the mornings.

 

 

+++

 

 

Fenris wakes to darkness.

The nightmare slips from his mind in a heartbeat, leaving him with just breathless, baseless fear and the memory of cold fingers wrapped around his throat. His hand goes to his mouth out of habit, anchoring him and keeping any noise locked away as he eases himself back from the cliff-edge of terror his dreams so often take him to.

The canopy above him is Hawke's, the curtains blocking out the moonlight are Hawke's, and the solid, slumbering body beside him is definitely Hawke's. He checks them again and again and again, lying rigid at the edge of the bed as he waits for his heart to stop beating quite so hard.

Hawke wakes more easily now, more attuned to Fenris' nights of panic over old ghosts, and so it's even harder to keep these moments of weakness hidden.

He forces himself to lie still, stay quiet, calm down but with the image of gaunt, grasping hands still lingering, it's through luck rather than skill that he doesn't cry out when something suddenly brushes his arm.

Hawke stirs but doesn't wake when Fenris' lyrium burns blue and Fenris looks over to see the mabari at the side of the bed. Biscuit tilts his head in confusion, big paws planted on the mattress next to Fenris, and Fenris instinctively reaches out to stroke him.

His hands are shaking as he pats the dog's fur and his voice is no better when he whispers, "Shhh. Good boy."

Biscuit whines, low enough not to wake Hawke, and Fenris scrubs a hand over his face as he tries to catch his breath. Biscuit doesn't move, just watches him for a long moment before pushing his cold nose against Fenris' bare shoulder. He whines again, leaning further over the bed, and Fenris jumps a little when Biscuit's nose finds his jaw.

The rough, wet swipe of the dog's tongue against his cheek is enough to jolt him back to the present and Fenris finds himself smiling as he tries to redirect Biscuit's concerned licks away from his nose and mouth.

Biscuit rests his head on Fenris' chest and Fenris strokes him again, curling his arm around the mabari's body as he whispers, "I'm sorry if I scared you."

He takes Biscuit's answering huff of breath as an acceptance of his apology.

Expecting him to head back to the couch he's staked out as his territory, Fenris blinks in surprise when the dog then clambers up on the bed.

Hawke does wake at that, muttering something grumpy and unintelligible into his pillow, but makes no actual effort to remove the interloper from their bed.

He's asleep again a moment later and Biscuit looks positively triumphant as he flops down next to Fenris. The solid weight is a reassurance and Fenris feels his panic begin to give way to exhaustion again as the dog cuddles in close.

The ghostly fingers fade as his own fingers brush the dog's familiar fur, and when Fenris curls up under the sheets again, he's surprised to find that he might actually sleep.

"I- Thank you," he whispers, and then, because he feels foolish thanking a dog, "You can have all my ham tomorrow."

Judging by Biscuit's happy rumble, that appears to be a fair trade and Fenris finds himself smiling a little as he closes his eyes.

Perhaps getting a dog wasn't the worst idea Hawke ever had.


End file.
